One Hot SEAL Read Free

mechanic that
month, which had been an awesome coincidence she’d really appreciated. He’d
driven her to the auto parts store and had even popped the new battery in for
her. Maybe her car woes had scared him, because he’d come back for one more
night—which, in retrospect, made her feel vaguely sleazy—and then
he’d hit the road. She hadn’t seen him again.
    “New plan.” Luke opened her door. “You’re
riding in my truck. Grab anything essential, and let’s go.”
    She stared into his brown eyes,
wondering if he’d been this bossy twelve years ago. “I’m not leaving my car.”
    Because
it’s the only thing standing between me and homelessness.
    He sighed. The radio in his truck
squawked. “Take a look at the horizon. Then take a look around your campsite.”
    She wasn’t blind. Her pretty
woodland campsite had several new additions, including flying sparks and orange
embers, which was reason number one thousand twenty six that she wanted to get
in her car and drive like hell.
    “We don’t have time for me to jump
your car, and that’s assuming that the problem really is a dead battery. The
alternative is that I reach in there,” he continued. Maybe he’d learned how to
read minds while he’d been away from Strong, because he’d managed to hit on her
biggest objections without her ever opening her mouth. “I can pull you out and
put you in my truck, but that’s doing things the hard way. It’s your choice.”
    She gaped at him. “Really?”
    He shrugged. “If you’re into BDSM
and enjoy being manhandled, we’ll have to renegotiate after we’re out of the
burn zone.”
    She tried the key one more time,
but all she got was that stupid clicking. Okay. Think . She got out and grabbed the hobo bag stuffed with her
clothes, Vicious’s kibble, and her stack of paperbacks from the library because
replacing those would probably bankrupt her.
    “Come on, Vicious.” When she made
kissy noises and the dog popped over to the side of the Caddy, she scooped her
up.
    “You need any of the stuff in the
back here?” Luke nodded to the truck bed.
    “That bag.” She nodded toward a
jute bag in the corner.
    “Got it.” He grabbed the bag and strode
toward his truck. “Jesus. What are you packing, rocks?”
    She choked. Yeah, actually she was.
The bag held a collection of sticks, rocks, and leaves that she’d use to make
the custom wallpaper prints she flogged on Etsy. Business wasn’t booming, but
she had hopes. Big, tall financial pie-in-the-sky hopes. Letting them go up in
flames wasn’t happening.
      “Seat belt,” he grunted when she got in
his truck.
    Right. Like she was worried about
dying in a car crash? Another ember landed two feet away, and a little flame shot
up.
    “The grass is on fire,” she
volunteered. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to start driving.”
    “In a moment.” He handed her two
wet towels. “Hold this over your mouth.” He pointed to Vicious. “See if you can
do the same for baby doll.”
    Then he put the truck into drive, and
holy moly, he had a powerful engine. The truck leapt forward, gunning up the
road. She slammed a hand against the dash, steadying herself. No wonder he’d
recommended a seat belt. She snuck a peak at him.
    His face was intent, focused on the
road, strong hands gripping the wheel as he guided them over the dirt surface.
She bounced as he hit a pothole, her butt slapping the seat.
    “You know how to show a girl one
hell of a Friday night.” The next bounce drove her breath out of her. Vicious
curled up on her feet, whimpering.
    He gave her a small grin. “At least
I’m taking you home.”
    “Right.” She chewed on her lower
lip. Nope. No need to tell him that she had nowhere to go. It just figured that
she’d end up on a wild truck ride wearing only Monday panties (on a Friday, no
less), a man’s flannel shirt, and a wifebeater. Unfortunately, when she checked
the side mirror, it became horribly, pressingly clear that her